


The Brave And The Burdened

by XtaticPearl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10476771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: When Brookeland is attacked by monsters of the sea, Hydra, and the shielded venom of the attack is left impenetrable by any normal energy, the Queen sends Captain Rogers to the neighboring Mannahatta to ask help from a mysterious beast who lives in the royal castle. When he reaches the castle though, Steve meets an inventor who also turns out to be the guardian of the castle and the prime caretaker of the metal beast. Steve and Tony, the inventor, disapprove of each other at first sight and it doesn't seem to improve when Tony learns of Steve's mission to borrow the beast's Blue Energy. Unknown to Steve, Tony is far closer to the beast than expected, and tries his level best to dissuade the stubborn good Captain from lingering in the castle ground, but Steve proves to be equally determined and braves every challenge set by Tony to stay till he gets the Energy to save his people. Finally, Tony and the beast set a condition in exchange for the Energy - for every bit of energy they gave, Steve must stay in the castle as a prisoner. Unfortunately, this backfires on Tony when Steve agrees, and thus begins the tale as old as time of two lonely souls discovering their destiny, beyond appearances and armors.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/post/158886601554/hellogarbagetime-the-only-beauty-and-the-beast

It was a warm, spring’s day when Captain Steven Rogers, the leader of the Queen’s commandos, set foot towards the troubled black valley and beyond on Her Highness’ command. It was a direct violation of the ancient rule, a betrayal of the passed-down treaty between the isolated kingdom of Mannahatta and Brookeland; the one which promised solitude and trespassing of none into the former in exchange of the unparalleled metals of Mannahatta for the soldiers of Brookeland. Steve himself had heard and respected this treaty ever since he had been a young lad, too frail to lift a sword. It had been unquestioned and a little unexplained but the people of Brookeland weren’t always known to question their guardians. Young Steve, with his large azure eyes and a sharpened jaw from all the blows that cut it in the alleys, had asked his mother once about it. He had been dragged back from the borders of Brookeland by Bucky, who had not let go of Steve’s frayed collar till he had deposited the lad in his ma’s lap, frowning and glaring like Steve had personally grieved Bucky.

_“I ain’t gonna watch yer back always, ye know?” Bucky had huffed, brows knotted in worry and chin jutting in stubbornness, “Ye gotta know when to back off, Stevie. The law’s the law, and yer curiosity is gonna get ye killed someday.”_

_“But I wanna know!” Steve had brushed the grime off his cheek with one rough cheek, frowning at both his best friend and his ma, “I wanna go see why we canna go. It’s just a place, ain’t it? Nobody’s stopped from comin here. We got people from everywhere comin here, don’t we, Ma? Then why can’t we go to Mannahatta?”_

_“Because,” Sarah, Steve’s calm-faced mother with hair like his own, ran a cool hand through his hair, “our old King Philip gave King Howard his word. And once a word given, it should not be broken. Your word is the highest form of trust you can ask from someone, and when given, should not be treated carelessly. So we don’t treat King Philip’s word carelessly, and we keep his word for him.”_

King Philip had died before Steve’s ma, and his daughter Princess Margaret had taken the throne at the same time that Steve and Bucky had pledged allegiance to her. That had been years ago, and Steve had grown up along with their kingdom.

But the promise, the word, had never been broken.

Till now. Till Steve’s mission from the Queen herself, to cross the borders and go knock on the rusted gates of the Stark Castle, a tower rumored to be built of iron forged in special magic. The Captain knew that his people were worried, but really, he believed that considering the extenuating circumstances, it was acceptable to break the rules a little. It wasn’t like they had expected the attack of the Hydra monsters that spewed the insoluble and unbreakable venomous metal that was viscous at attack but solidified and wrapped around any surface, making it poisoned. They had risen from the lake, numerous ugly heads emerging from one coiled body, pouring their venom onto every surface they could find. The farms, the barns, the marketplaces - all of them lay coated in blood red and oily black material that ate away from the inside. Nothing was breaking through the surface. No swords, fire, shield, or potion. It was then that the Royal Potion Master and Healer had suggested the tale of the powerful Blue Energy locked away in the Stark Castle. it had been spread as a legend, of a metal beast who was a master of a flaming blue power that came from his heart and palms, strong enough to destroy the indestructible. Nobody had seen it in motion but Selvig, the Healer, had said that he had gotten a mirrored glimpse of it from a distance when the beast had taken a rare flight into the sky.

Steve honestly believed it to be nothing more than a bogey story. But Thor, the Royal Guard, believed Selvig and Queen Margaret, or Peggy as those she trusted called her had found no other solution either. So it had been a choice among no other, to send a man with a request to borrow the Blue Energy from the castle. If not lent, well then, Steve’s sword and shield would have to do the requesting.

He hitched his starred shield higher on his back and pushed his feet further, ignoring his screaming muscles and sweating back that begged for a warm bath or some hot meal. It had taken three entire days to cross the thorny thicket of after the broken bridge, a sprained wrist from rappelling up the jagged mountain, and a rumbling appetite for Steve to make it this far. He wasn’t going to rest now, so close that he could see the apex of the castle now. It held a broken star, covered in rust and grime, on the top, shaped like an A. As Steve came closer, his eyes took in the haunted look of the towering structure, an unkempt garden of weed touching the twisted gates, and the pebbled pathway towards the castle more broken than built.

When Steve stood in front of the gate, he felt the slightest wave of trepidation cross his mind. He had no real plan for this, nothing more than an honest request and plea for kindness. But what kindness would a beast have? Especially one who did not have a heart, and was built of metal than flesh?

“Stop your blathering, Rogers,” he chided himself and drew a deep breath, “Think about your people. Think about your promise. No beast is big enough to forget your people. If at all the beast refuses, you will simply have to convince him harder.”

With one hand briefly touching the leather strap of his shield for the last boost of courage, Steve stretched out a hand and pushed at the iron gates of the Stark Castle.

The double gates resisted for a second, standing their ground against the weight and force of Steve’s push. The cobwebs and moss gathered on the dark wrought iron stuck to his hands and felt like the touch of rotten meat under his palms. He pulled back, straightened his stance and glanced up, eyes taking in the fifteen-foot gate that stood between him and his destination. The iron was tightly woven in intricate braids and windows, coiling around long bars that sharpened to spear like points at their ends. There was no lock or bolt to bind the two gates together, but Steve did notice an oval scarlet and golden seal, forged in a duller metal, wrapped around the middle two bars of iron.

Steve ran the tip of his fingers over the red metal, feeling the tightness of it and the malleability it would have held. He cast a look at the castle, towering over him, just a few feet away, and looked back at the gates. There was no human left in the castle, he had heard and learnt over the years. Not since the death of the King and the Queen, and the abduction of their young son by a wizard with ten rings of magic. The staff had apparently all left under the shadows of the ghastly night after that tragedy, with no King or army to protect them or to serve. The kingdom, which had once been prosperous, had withered away into ruins over the passing of a night’s clouds. Steve knew that there was nobody inside but a metal beast, left behind by the mad wizard as a reminder of his triumph. He could clearly not call for the beast to come open the gates though.

Scaling the gates was an option but Steve surveyed the condition of the structure and felt doubtful. One faulty bar and he would probably collapse with a metal end falling onto him like a javelin. Biting his lower lip in mild thought, he touched his leather strap of the shield and eyed the metal seal. It could probably work, he thought with a growing certainty, and slipped the tricolored shield off his back with the ease of practice. Taking a step back and bracing the shield with a firm grip around its centred handle, he swung back and let it hit the seal with the precise blow of controlled strength, and then did it again on the point of pressure.

The seal broke with a snap of ringing metal, cracking open with jagged halves resting on the bars like a set of uneven teeth gaping in an open predator’s mouth. Steve shifted his shield to one hand and leaned forward to push the gate again, opening it to the sounds of a decade old creak. Resting a hand on the right gate, he pushed even as he took his first steps into the grounds of the Stark Castle, feeling the crunch of untended leaves under his boots.

Raising his eyes up to the broken star hanging atop the castle, Steve took a breath of fortitude and walked forward towards the doors of the castle where the most important mission of his life lay.

* * *

If the sundial sitting innocuously on the balcony across his work floor was to be believed, it was the third day of a new week of spring. If Tony’s aching back and cautiously building head ache was to be believed, it was probably a few days too long. The uncarpeted floor of his work area was unforgiving to the haunches and the littered cups of stale coffee were unforgiving to his growling stomach. The young inventor distinctly remembered popping a handful of berries from the table into his mouth in between coffee sips, so he presumed that they were taken into account to measure his health’s care.

Arching his back with his arms raised above his head, Tony felt his spine curse him with every shift in muscle and mercifully releasing a few knots of tension across his body. He tilted his head back, ignoring the lock of brown hair falling onto his forehead, and rotated his neck gently. The room was too bright after a narrow vision of bolts and nuts for hours, and he squinted weary dark hazel eyes at the lone clustered chandelier burning right above him in soothing golden light. He didn’t remember lighting it, much less keeping it lit for this long. _Must have been Jarvis_ , he thought with an amused feeling, and rolled his shoulders twice before getting on his hands and knees in an attempt to get off the floor.

The tell-tale whirring of mechanical wheels made him raise a hand and point vehemently in the direction of his familiar helper.

“No,” he said firmly, one hand braced on a knee and the other pointing at the mechanical claw attached to a frame on wheels, “Absolutely not. If you offer me a claw, Dummy, I will turn you into the fourth shelf for the wine cellar. Don’t you dare, you eternally mistimed scrap.”

The claw paused and rolled forward and backwards in the same place, making sad beeping noises, with its pincers opening and closing in empty air.

“I do not care about your helping chores,” Tony snorted and groaned as he got to his feet, “Pulling me off the floor was never on your chores. Cleaning these cups stained with week old coffee? That was on your chores. Are they clean? Let me see, oh what is that, they still have the dredge of coffee in them. And now the stains will be harder to remove, won’t they, Dummy?”

Dummy twisted its claw to the right and whirred in a small circle, snapping its pincers at Tony once before rolling around him to go pick up a single cup off the floor and rolling back to its station.

“Amazing, thank you, you overgrown metal child,” Tony sighed in fond exasperation and walked across the floor towards his relieving room, patting Dummy’s claw on his way out. His feet felt numb after days of crouching, sitting cross-legged or plain exposure to the unforgiving cold floor but Tony made them move with the sheer power of needing to soothe his sweaty face and burning eyes. Jarvis often stressed on the need for shoes but Tony couldn’t keep a pair of them at hand at all times, especially not when he simply _had_ to sit down and work through a sketch of the latest piece of restrained weaponry he had to build to send across the border to Brookeland. The rumors of magic and mythical beats were wonderful to sustain gossip mongers but true work had to be done by calloused hands and overworked brains, both of which Tony had since childhood. Well, he also had a shade of reality to the beast aspect of the rumor but that was secondary after all these years of living with himself. Primary always remained the work to be done to maintain the tradition of a long faded promise that his father had thrust on his shoulders the night they had entertained a guest with –

“Not the time for fairytales and monsters, Stark,” he muttered to his reflection as he opened the knobs of the taps, letting the cool water of the spring run for a minute before cupping his hands under it, “Focus on the present, on today. A dreaming Stark today will be a dead Stark tomorrow, or worse, an exposed Stark. Your work is your mask and your mask is your safety. Wear it, weld it, worry about the rest later, remember?”

The cold splash of clear water did nothing to erase the lie Tony had spent years telling himself in front of the same gold framed mirror. Later had come and gone between the curtains of silent years, where Tony had looked at his hands and not his face, worried about his mind’s speed and not his heart’s. Cupping his hands once more, he splashed another shock of cold water onto his face, letting the drops trickle down his cheeks and soak into his ill-trimmed beard.

For a moment, just a measly fraction of time, he allowed himself to reflect on the image he had formed. Golden skin gone pale over years of hiding from the sun for larger times stretched around a sharp face, with a sculpted jawline he had been given from his father’s genes and a pair of thin but well-shaped lips from his mother.  Hazel eyes leaning towards just the right shade of dark blinked at him from between droplets dripping down dark brown, an ever present furrow of suppressed tension joining them over the sharp nose he had inherited from his forgotten uncle Gregory. It was the face of a man who woke every day to the thoughts of tomorrow’s work and went to bed with the worries of today’s inadequacies. It hardly resembled the visage of a prince born to warm a throne or wear a crown, not for a long time. Tony didn’t know if he regretted that or if he was better off without it.

“Now I know what others have suffered from me,” Tony murmured with a wry smile as he looked at the eyes in his reflection, “for I burn with the love of my own self – and yet how can I reach that loveliness that I see mirrored in the water? But I cannot leave it. Only death can set me free.”

With a small huff of hollow laughter, he looked away from the mirror and picked up a towel placed on a metal rod, wiping his face as he left. The reflection of a forgotten prince drained down with the water in the marble basin.

“Jarvis,” Tony called out as he walked towards his room, toes skimming the floor with the drag of his feet, “Do we have any food from earlier?”

The ceiling let out a sigh of static sound as his invisible companion awoke from a slumber of silence, hidden in the walls of the castle.

“The answer would depend, it seems Master Anthony, and on what you mean by food,” the voice of an unimpressed caretaker echoed from the walls, “If it were another kettle of coffee, then I would recommend you search the counters of Dummy. If, by a divine miracle, you mean something more solid in nature, I would gladly recommend you to visit Jocasta’s counters. It would seem that she has arranged for a meal of spiced gravy, bread, and rice cakes.”

“Well, she never does do anything smaller,” Tony chuckled and got down the stairs, hand skimming over the smooth bronze banister of the stairs he had once slid around on as a child, “Tell Jocasta that I would be delighted to be her guest, would you?”

“I am sure – ”

Jarvis’ reply was cut short by a loud chime of bells that had echoed only once a year, and definitely not during the spring. Tony stilled on the bottom step of the stairs and stared in the direction of the front door, wondering if he was hallucinating the sound of the bells.

When it rang again, the wonder changed to a spike of sharp fear only to end with a bout of wary annoyance and cautious anger at the announcement of a stranger at his doorstep. He had sealed the gates to keep out trespassers, and had ensured in every which way that wandering tourists never came knocking with false cheer on their faces. The propagated rumors and tales of a vicious metal beast were usually enough, and for those that dared still, the shambled ruins of the castle’s exterior was a deterrent. There was only one person who was ever welcome in his home and Tony _knew_ that it wasn’t him. Rhodes would never come during the spring, not when his own regiment of troops were busy fighting wars across the skies of a farther valley.

And if it were not Rhodes, then it was a stranger out to destroy Tony’s carefully constructed world of isolated freedom and darkened bliss.

“Jarvis, who is it?” he asked sharply and waited as his invisible butler travelled along the walls to peer outside.

“It would appear to be a soldier, Master Anthony,” Jarvis spoke up, an intrigued tone to his voice, “He bears the shield with Brookeland’s star, sire. His dress bears the star as well, and also stripes of honor from past victories on the battlefield.”

“Brookeland,” Tony echoed and frowned at the floor, “Why would anybody from Brookeland ever set foot here? The treaty still holds strong and the borders still lie firm. Jarvis, did we miss our delivery of materials to the land last time?”

“No, sire,” Jarvis replied and paused before continuing, “Perhaps, the soldier comes with a message, sire? From the Queen?”

“The Queen? What in the devil’s name would she ever want with me?” Tony wondered with a confused scowl at the nearest wall.

“With you, sire?” Jarvis said pointedly and Tony bit back a wince but rolled his eyes, “I presume nothing, seeing as she does not seem to know of your…existence. Maybe she wants something to do with…the other man of the castle?”

“The beast?” Tony asked and snorted, taking the final step down and pulling his shirt straight, “Whatever would anybody _ever_ want with him? He is a man of metal, an Iron Man. The tales pretty much guarantee a heartless monster, and the only thing people want to do with heartless monsters is to kill them. Does the soldier look armed to kill, Jarvis?”

“I do not see any weapons beside the shield, sire,” Jarvis informed, “Would you like me to ask him his purpose?”

“And let him know that the castle speaks?” Tony laughed, already walking towards the door, “Trust me, Jarvis, any sane man would run to bring pitchforks if that ever happened.”

“As usual, I defer to your expertise on sanity, Master Anthony,” Jarvis commented and Tony shook his head with a rueful smile as he came to stand before the door. He knew what it would look like if he opened the door and greeted the soldier. He would either be presumed to be a captive of the beast or a trespasser who had taken residence in the ruined opulence of abandoned royalty. Both options ran fine with Tony, especially when people would never in a million years suspect the truth. Not with the name they knew and the name he wore. Edward was a name he had long discarded in favour of retaining the name of his mother’s wistful choice, a reminder of her favorite brother.

Anthony was nobody in the outside world; no prince, no heir, and no son of a mighty legacy. Anthony did not exist to the world, and sometimes Tony wondered if he existed inside his own world either. The only person alive and tangible who knew of him was his childhood friend, the son of his father’s trusted minister. James Rhodes had sworn to the world of losing his friend as a child to protect Tony’s truth, and to the present, had maintained that lie. Once a year, he would visit under the hail of snow, were footsteps would be covered faster than made, and brighter fireplaces would be attributed to the beast melting his frozen food. Rhodes was his only connection to the outside world and even then Tony knew that he didn’t know people well enough.

So what would he be really risking if he opened the doors? Everything? Or would it be nothing? His life? Or his truth, which was worse than his pitiful life?

“What do you think, J?” Tony whispered, eyes stuck on the handles of the door.

“I think, Master Anthony,” Jarvis spoke up after a second’s quiet, “that you must let some sunshine come in. It might help with the darkness you and I seem to have become used to.”

“I don’t remember you being a philosopher, Jarvis,” Tony chuckled and caressed the brass handle of the door.

“Living between spaces of bricks would do that to an intelligent being, sire,” Jarvis replied and Tony quirked his lips before taking a fortifying breath and pushing down the handle with a shaking hand gripped tight around the brass.

With a forceful wrench backwards, the door opened and Tony’s eyes met the man who had dared to break his seal of solitude.

Bright azure eyes blinked at him in shock and then confusion from a couple of inches above Tony’s head and the soldier cleared his throat once before speaking.

“Good day, sir,” the blond man said in a voice that spoke of commands and victory speeches, “I am Captain Steven Rogers of Queen Margaret’s army from Brookeland. I have come here to meet the resident of this castle - - the beast.”

“Fascinating,” Tony replied with an unimpressed look at the eyes that were now fading off confusion and forming a frown, “Well, you may go tell your Queen that the resident of this castle is not available to any guests.”

“Is that so?” the Captain said with a tone that spoke volumes of how unconvinced he was, “And pray tell me who says that? Whom am I hearing this from, if I may know?”

“The one who knows better,” Tony said with a tight smile, “Now, if you leave now, you might reach a shelter for the night well within time. Have a good journey, Captain.”

Tony moved to shut the door when a booted foot stuck itself between the crack and Tony raised an eyebrow at the man who was giving him a steely look.

“Your attempt at breaking your foot is admirable, Captain,” Tony said as he refused to budge back an inch, “But I would prefer if you didn’t break your bones at my door.”

“Sir, you seem to misunderstand me,” the soldier spoke, one hand resting on the door, “I _must_ meet the beast. It is imperative that I talk to him.”

“Talk to him,” Tony repeated and blinked twice before frowning, “You wish to _talk_ to the beast.”

“Yes,” the Captain said with a faint note of frustration at having being made to stand at the doorstep while having this conversation, “It is a matter of saving my land, and I require his assistance for it.”

“Assis – what sort of assistance could the beast ever provide Brookeland?” Tony asked in astonishment, “You don’t intend to take him to war, do you? Because let me warn you, that is a sure method for a self-disaster.”

“No, no,” the Captain shook his head, “we have a different request to make. One only he can help us with, and no, it is not to fight in our stead.”

“Then what?”

“You seem awfully nosy for someone who hasn’t introduced yourself, sir,” the Captain narrowed his eyes and leaned back to get a good look at the half-hidden profile of Tony, “Who _are_ you? And why are you here? My business is with the beast, and I would discuss it with him alone.”

Tony stared at the Captain who stared back at him with a challenging gaze, both men stuck in a stand-off of looks for a few long minutes. Tony debated his choices even as he noted how the man would not look away or lose the intensity of his gaze. He could attempt to shut the door again, and probably break the Captain’s foot. He could also spin a web of lies and force the man out, with the right amount of threats. But the Captain didn’t look like a man who got threatened easily. His azure eyes held a determination to see things through and his head was held high, with confidence and self-assuredness. He looked as much as a Captain as the stripes of red ribbon on his shoulder cuff said. Tony could easily have a fight at hand with this man if he pushed. Of course, Tony could also beat this man, but only if he ended up revealing his secret.

In the end he came to a compromise and heaved a small sigh.

“I am the guardian of this castle,” he said and leaned against the wooden support of the door, “Also the caretaker. The only human to reside within these walls and the only one allowed to see the beast.”

“Nobody has ever heard of you,” the Captain frowned and Tony shrugged a shoulder.

“Nobody needed to,” he replied, “My duty is towards the one who keeps me here, and not to the world outside these walls. I do what the beast requires and in turn, I live here in peace. Something that I had until you came barging in.”

“I apologize,” the Captain said in a completely unapologetic tone, “but I really must meet your Master. I mean no harm to either of you. I simply wish to seek something important to help my people.”

“Brookeland has been receiving the weapons and shields that are due every month,” Tony frowned, “Anything else is not part of the treaty between the lands, I am sure?”

“This is a particularly important situation,” the Captain insisted and leaned forward, fitting his face in between the door and the wall, “Mister …”

“Anthony,” Tony filled in the implied blank and the Captain nodded.

“Mister Anthony, Brookeland requires a special source of power to free itself of the shielded venom of Hydra monsters,” the soldier said in a low voice, eyes boring directly into Tony’s, “Our fields, barns, and markets are ruined and our people suffer because of them. None of our weapons, not even those sent from your master, have pierced through the shields of the monsters’ venom. The magic is strange and strong in those creatures.”

“And how does the beast come into this?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The Blue Energy,” the Captain said and Tony felt his body still, “Our Royal Healer and Master of Science, Selvig, swears that the Blue Energy of the beast’s metal core could penetrate and vanquish the shielded venom. He swears that it is pure energy, the kind that kind be found in no magic spell. I have come to ask your Master to lend some of it to our land, to help us save ourselves.”

“You – how did you -,” Tony swallowed hard and clenched the handle of the door tighter, “Captain, I believe that you have come to the wrong place to request the wrong help. There is nothing we can do for you in this matter. Regrettably. “

“I would rather hear the same from the one who creates the Energy,” the Captain countered with a determined set of his jaw and Tony let a bit of his composure slip.

“You _are_ hearing from him,” he replied in a low tone of forced calm, noting the way the azure eyes widened in surprise, “Like I told you, Captain, I do anything that the beast requires and the energy you speak of is something he definitely does. He doesn’t create it, I do. And I say no.”

“Anthony, please,” the Captain held off on Tony’s push to the door, his eyes focusing harder on Tony’s face, “if this is true, then please, think of the people you can help with this.”

“My work is for the beast,” Tony bit out, feeling a well of panic soar in him, “I do not produce that energy for anyone but him.”

“But why?!” the Captain asked in frustration, “is it wealth? I assure you, you will be fairly and justly compensated for your service. Or is it fear? I promise, I can take you away from here if the beast is -”

“It is my choice,” Tony snapped and glared at the blond man, “I am no slave here, if that is what you ask. I choose to stay, as I told you in the beginning. I _choose_ to serve him and stay here. And I _choose_ to create the energy only for him. Nobody else gets it. That is my choice.”

“Well, it is a selfish choice!” the Captain snapped back, pale skin taking on an undertone of flushed red from growing irritation, “People will die! People’s livelihoods will perish because of your _choice_. Families, homes, entire lands will drown in rotting venom because you _choose_ to not share something with those who need it to survive. And if that is your choice, then you are quite well a slave, Mister Anthony. A slave to your own greed!”

“And you an intruder who dares demands favors from those who never welcomed you into their home!” Tony shot back, skin bristling even as the Captain’s words stung, “You say that your people suffer and yet I see you chasing a fantasy solution instead of trying better with those that would actually work. If your people die, Captain, then that is on you who could not defend them from monsters that invaded your land. To save hide from your shame of failure to the monsters you come demanding choices from those who should have no care of you or your land, _Captain_.”

“How dare you –” the Captain began with a darkening flush of red creeping into his face and made the mistake of shuffling his feet to stand taller.

“I dare thus!” Tony smirked a fake grin of annoyance and shut the door on the Captain’s face with a decisive slam. He heard the strangled groan from the other side of the door and felt the insistent but polite knocking from the man through the wood, but Tony turned back and let his head fall back onto the door, his hands coming up to rest on his chest with shivers running through them.

“I dare thus,” he whispered to himself in a shaky voice as he clutched at his chest and slipped a hand underneath the thicker undershirt to feel the metal protrusion that he knew glowed blue, with an energy that powered the beast in darkened shadows.

The beast that lived in Tony’s blood, running metal with blood, a blood and metal hard shell that hid the man beneath a monster of gleaming slits for eyes and a cold metal body with no heartbeat. Just the hum of the Blue Energy running in the contraption that a dead healer had inserted into a dying child’s heart when a wizard stole it to taunt a broken King.

Feeling his knees weaken, Tony slid down the door, falling onto his haunches and curled into himself, resting his head on his knees. How could he ever tell the good Captain that his choice was the only thing Tony had left? How could he ever tell the soldier that the energy he sought was meant to work only through the metal beast that lived in Tony?

How could he tell the man that the energy was the only reason Tony was alive and giving it away would mean dying?

As he heard the Captain’s persistent knocks on the door, Tony closed his eyes and cursed his life for the umpteenth time since he had learnt to curse.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, please <3


End file.
